Page 2 of The Girl in the Woods

‘I’ll see you Monday at six,’ he said. ‘You can bring the jacket then.’

‘Yes,’ she said, tugging at her skirt again. Then, as soon as he turned the corner, she threw up violently into the gutter.

CHAPTER TWO

PRESENT DAY: SATURDAY MORNING

With each stride, Ana’s mind became clearer and more resolute. She’d made it, and there was no going back. Then, as the sunlight caressed her skin, she took a deep breath of the warm air and steeled herself to think only of her future. With each stride after that, she felt more in command. Ana’s clear brown eyes scanned the concrete tower block and landed on the fourth-floor window. She smiled. It was ideal. Across the street stood an identical building. Its grey concrete galloped up to the clouds. Yes, it was more than ideal; it was perfect.

‘They make ’em too high if you ask me,’ said the estate agent approaching her. ‘Ana Rawlins?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘Great views, though.’

‘If you’ve got a head for heights.’ He pulled a key from his pocket and opened the main doors to the smart foyer. There was a click, and the place was flooded with light. It smelt of polish and someone’s floral perfume. The black and white tiled floor was spotless.

‘Cleaners come twice a week. All part of the maintenance,’ he explained. ‘All included in the rent. The security light stays on for two minutes. Long enough to reach the lift, but there’s another button by the lift doors.’ He turned to her. ‘Sure you don’t want to see the flat on the first floor. Unfurnished and slightly cheaper.’

Ana shook her head. ‘I like a good view,’ she said, and the fourth floor would give her precisely the view she wanted.

The estate agent noticed she barely looked around the flat or took in the tasteful décor and furnishings. Instead, she went to the window and looked at the block across the street. The fourth-floor window of the opposite flat had pretty curtains with tiebacks, embellishing the window like a picture frame.

‘Like a goldfish bowl. You need to remember that,’ he said, standing beside her. ‘You can see right in here from over there.’ He leaned in like he was about to share a secret with her. ‘There was this story in the paper about this guy who was stalking some girl from a flat window. Took photos of her undressing using one of those long lenses.’

‘I didn’t read it,’ she said absently. I wonder if she’s home, Ana thought. Probably not.

‘All the same, best to get nets,’ he advised.

‘I’ll take it,’ she said, turning from the window.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘But you haven’t seen the other rooms.’

‘It’s exactly what I want. I’ve been waiting for a flat like this.’ She’d waited long enough, and now the time had come.

CHAPTER THREE

SATURDAY EVENING

The lad making his way home from the Chelsea match was Sajid Singh. Chelsea had won 3–1 against Spurs, and Sajid was elated and slightly drunk. Next was the quarter-final, and Sajid felt sure they would win. Warmth radiated throughout his body, partly from excitement and partly from the alcohol he’d consumed. A few of the supporters he’d sat with had invited him to celebrate with them at a place in Soho whose name he couldn’t remember. He remembered being happy, though; his eyes still shone with the pleasure only winning could bring.

He climbed aboard the coach at Marble Arch, heading for Oxford. If the traffic was okay, it would take an hour and a half, maybe less. There were only a few empty seats. He debated sitting with the lads wearing Chelsea shirts, thinking it would be fun to share the excitement of winning, but their expressions made him uneasy. Their shaven heads and tattoos told him he wouldn’t be welcome into their clique. Instead, he sat next to an old man who stank of sweat and nicotine. He could hear the lads behind him sniggering and swearing.

‘You shouldn’t be doing that,’ someone said.

‘Is that right?’ One of the lads laughed.

Sajid turned to see that one was spraying black paint on the CCTV cameras. He quickly turned back and glanced down at his phone.

As time went on, the lads got rowdier. Sajid could smell the beer they were drinking. The more they drank, the more boisterous they became. He pulled his earphones from his pocket, accidentally hitting the old man with his elbow.

‘Hey, watch it,’ said the man harshly.

‘Sorry, the seats are so close,’ apologised Sajid.

‘Yeah, well, just be more careful next time.’

‘Of course, I’m–’ began Sajid, but he stopped when a hand slapped him on the shoulder.

‘Is this Paki upsetting you, mate?’ The voice was coarse and common. Sajid knew without looking that it was one of the lads he’d chosen not to sit beside. The lad leaned over him, his alcohol-fumed breath wafting into Sajid’s face.

---